


devour me (if you really think that you can stomach me)

by opheliahyde, scorpiod



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Aftercare, Bloodplay, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9284414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/pseuds/scorpiod
Summary: Pre-series:Richie needs Seth to do this one thing for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> What began as a round-robin writing exercise became this fic, which is the first we've collaborated on together directly and not in a beta-reader/writer capacity. Set sometime pre-series, around the time Seth is eighteen and Richie is nineteen, based on several headcanons developed through long late-night conversations. Edited by the both of us, so any mistakes are our own. Feedback is fuel! 
> 
> Title taken from alt-J's song _Every Other Freckle_.

This might be the stupidest thing he’s ever done, but Richie doesn’t know how to say it; his tongue feels swollen and thick, too clumsy to get the words out so he chokes on them, coughing out an _I’m fine_ when Seth asks, waving him off when he touches him, trying and tilting his face up to see if there was anything he could do.

There was, if Richie could ever tell him.

The handcuffs are cool around his wrists, metal heavy and tight, rubbing his skin raw, making his bones ache; he didn’t know how he managed it, getting his own hands behind his back, but he was restrained, keys across the room and the rug burning under his bare knees. At least it was summer, leaving the apartment hot and thick with humidity, but it didn’t stop him shivering, naked to his skin kneeling on the ground.

“How did—” Seth starts, and stops, his thoughts rushing a mile per minute behind his eyes, still holding Richie’s head up in his hands, hands cupping his chin. Richie sees the thought before Seth says it—frowning, eyes flaring. “Did someone do this to—”

“No!” Richie says, a little too rushed, his face going hot, hotter than it already was—Seth must be able to see the flush on face, feel it under his palms, know what it means, as if his cock didn’t already give it away, exposed and jutting up, curving towards his stomach, the head of it as red as his cheeks. “No, no,” Richie whispers, softer this time, struggling to find the right words. “I did this.”

It takes Seth a moment, before his mouth parts open, eyes turning darker than they normally are. “ _Jesus,_ Richie,” Seth gasps, voice gone dry and thick. “Jesus,” Seth repeats, slower this time, drawn out, stuttered along with the quick inhale of his breath as his palm slips down Richie’s jaw, his thumb tracing the swell of Richie’s bottom lip.

Richie’s tongue darts out, licking the pad of Seth’s thumb and opening his mouth, hoping Seth takes the hint, accepts the invitation—but Seth slides his thumb away instead, fingers cupping under Richie’s jaw as Seth comes to kneel with him on the floor. “How long have you been waiting like this?” Seth asks, swallowing, fingers trembling as they push back Richie’s hair, swiping the damp strands off his sweaty forehead. “For me—I mean, this is for me?”

Richie can’t nod, not with Seth holding his head between his hands, peering at him like he could find answers in his eyes, close and intent—Richie just has to push forward and their mouths are together, Seth tasting sweet like pop and candy, sugar still on his lips. “What do you think?” Richie asks, half against his mouth, leaning their heads together, Seth’s finger digging into the hinge of his jaw.

Seth licks into his mouth, instinct more than conscious thought, sweet and warm against his tongue, kisses him until he takes Richie’s bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down.

Richie can’t help the soft gasp he makes, and Seth pulls away then, still holding on to his face, not looking away from Richie’s eyes.

“I think,” he begins, breathy. One hand moves and goes down Richie’s body—Richie thinks he’s going for his dick, anticipation burning away at him, but instead, Seth rests his hand against Richie’s chest, over his heart, his palm sweaty and slick, sticking to his skin.

“I want to hear it from your lips, brother,” Seth says, mouth curving upwards in a smirk. Seth’s quick on the uptake, catches on fast enough. “Can you do that for me?”

“I—” Richie starts, swallowing hard, Seth’s taste on his tongue as he licks his lips. “I...I’m for you,” he manages, hyper aware of the burning red flush on his face that had nothing to do with the summer heat, his cock throbbing as he lets go, a curl of warmth running through him as he admitted it—the truth of it.

_I’m yours to take._

It’s Seth’s turn to swallow hard, licking his lips as his eyes rake down Richie’s body slow, like he’s seeing everything to the first time, like he was just now realizing how naked Richie was, allowing himself to devour him with his eyes. His fingers stroke up along Richie’s collarbone, as he drags his gaze back to Richie’s, exhaling fast. “You trussed yourself up just for me?” he asks, fingertips feather light on Richie’s skin, mapping out the lines and dips off his shoulders, making his skin pimple despite the heat, making Richie shiver, not touching Richie anywhere he wants to be touched—desperate for it now, cock leaking down his shaft, dripping on his thighs. “This is all for me?”

Richie nods, unable to trust his voice, back arching as his chin lifts, Seth’s fingers finding his throat, the pads of his fingers pressing in against his racing pulse.

“What do you want me to do to you, brother?” Seth asks, curling his fingers around the back of Richie’s neck, thumb still tucked against Richie’s pulse.

“Anything,” Richie gasps out, biting on his bottom lip as he trembles. “Anything you want.”  

“Anything?” Seth asks, hesitation weakening his voice, eyes wide like he still didn’t quite believe Richie, no matter how gift wrapped he was for him—his bold little brother turned cautious all of a sudden.

“ _Please_ ,” Richie says—his voices shakes as he says it, a full body tremble as he lets the plea slip from his mouth, a whine turning his voice sharp, loud.

“Goddamn,” Seth breathes out, a slow exhale of breath. He glances down, staring at Richie’s cock with naked want in his eyes.

Richie expects— _wants, needs, waiting for it—_ for Seth to go for his dick now but instead he looks back up and reaches towards his face. Richie holds himself very still for him, fighting the instinct to rear back whenever someone puts their hands in his face, trying so hard to be good. Seth slides his fingers up Richie’s jaw line, until he’s in the perfect position to cup his face in his hand, his thumb on the indent of Richie’s lip, pushing against his skin, Richie closing his eyes as he basks in the warmth of it.

“Maybe I want you to su—”

Seth doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Richie does what he’s told, wrapping his lips around Seth’s thumb, lapping at the skin, tasting the sweat and salt and dirt of Seth. He sucks hard and long, raising his gaze to Seth’s, staring up into his brother's eyes, watching his body shake and hips jerk, like Richie swallowed his cock instead.

“Fuck,” Seth groans above him, running his free hand through Richie’s hair, eyes glued to the way his thumb fits in Richie’s mouth, pressing the pad of his thumb down on Richie tongue, pinning it as Richie hollows out his cheeks, works his mouth the way he’s work over Seth’s cock, showing Seth what he can do if Seth just asked. “Jesus, sweetheart, you like that, huh? Can you take more?” Seth pulls his thumb from Richie’s mouth and a sob escapes Richie’s throat before he can swallow it back, hot and aching between his thighs, knees hurting from kneeling so long--a good throb, echoing through his body, his noises silenced by Seth sliding two fingers into his mouth.

“That’s it—” Seth swallows, thrusting his fingers into Richie’s mouth. “Suck them good, big brother.”

A whine escapes Richie’s throat, again, unable to help himself now—soft, low in his throat—and his brother echoes it as well, like Richie could make him come from this—mouth on fingers, the facsimile of a blowjob.

“Is that what you wanna do to my cock, baby?” Seth asks. Richie doesn't get a chance to respond, doesn’t see it coming, the hand on his cock—light fingers, light touching, no friction to speak of, but he forgets to suck anyway for a second, a small cry leaving his lips as he shivers, eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

“Look how slick you are from all of this,” Seth says, running his fingers over the head of Richie’s cock, the wet tip and dripping precome. “Jesus, Richie, I didn’t think finger sucking got you off so much.”

Seth removes his fingers, and holds up his other hand in front of Richie’s mouth--the wet slick fingers hovering over his lips, not touching, not pushing. “Wanna taste?”

Richie leans forward in answer, running his tongue up one of Seth’s fingers, then the other, covering them with his mouth, tasting himself thick and briny from Seth’s fingers, licking Seth’s fingers clean as Seth begins to pant above him, letting out a low moan.

“So eager to taste yourself, huh? You’re making a fucking mess on the floor, Richard—making  a goddamn mess of yourself,” Seth groans when Richie nips at the pads of his fingers, swallows thick around the gasping erratic noises he can’t help or stop—like Richie was unraveling Seth and not the other way around. “So fucking pretty like this, brother, goddamn gorgeous.”

Richie pulls off Seth’s fingers, face flushing, heat burning along the edges of his cheekbones, blooming on his chest. “Don’t.” Richie leans back, resting on the heels of his feet. “Don’t talk like that. I want—“ He laughs under his breath, choking on it, unable to get the words out, unable to say it with his guts squirming and stomach flipping over, not with Seth’s hands on him, wet fingers stroking his jaw, brushing his hair off his damp forehead. “—don ’t be sweet to me,” he gets out, meeting Seth’s eyes, large and blinking at him, searching his gaze for more explanation than Richie can give him. He licks his lips. “Use me how you like.”

Seth moves his fingers down his face, wet from his mouth, stroking his temples to the tops of his cheekbones until they find his glasses, lifting the frames from Richie’s face, gentle in the way Richie told him not to be but can’t help, not when he does this, handling Richie’s glasses like something priceless and very fragile, removing the last vestige of clothing on Richie’s body. It’s worse than stripping everything else and Richie moans when he pulls them from the bridge of his nose and moves away to set them down, Richie’s body shaking with the effort as his vision goes blurry and unfocused.

Seth is in control now—his eyes, his everything.

He doesn’t expect Seth to move so quick, grabbing him under the arms, handling him rough, grabbing like Richie asked, fingers digging into his armpits as he lifts him to his feet, Richie’s legs coltish from being on his knees so long, standing painful as blood rushes down to his calves, to his ankles, Seth turn him around and pushing him forward, catching his stumbling steps until they’re at their rickety kitchen table.

“Bend over,” Seth says, voice low and heavy, but unable to shake the nerves out of it, but still, Richie does as he’s told, bringing his face down onto the wood. “Spread your legs. I want to see you, I want to see if you really mean it. Show me, brother.”

He moves to spread his legs, still feeling unsteady on them as he shifts his weight, Seth’s hands helping him out, despite his words, pushing his thighs apart until he’s spread wide open, until Seth’s hands are holding him open. He gives his ass a squeeze that pushes a gasp out of Richie’s throat.

“Should I fuck you like this, baby?” Seth says, pressing his groin to Richie’s ass. His jeans are still on, all of his clothes still on, but he can feel his cock even through the thick denim, hard against him. He holds him down, grabbing him by his shoulders and keeping Richie down against the wood--he could get up, if he wanted to, if he really wanted, but Richie doesn’t want to try—just feel the heavy press of Seth’s body against him. “No lube, just my cock in you?”

“Whatever you want,” Richie shakes out, breathing against the wood, cool on his cheek. Seth’s hips thrust against him—once, twice, before getting control of himself, his brother’s ragged gasps blowing air across his shoulder blades.  

Then Seth’s mouth is on him, hot and wet, trailing down his spine in slow increments, his tongue slipping out to lick at the valleys between the ridges, making Richie arch and his body roll under Seth. His brother kisses each of his palms when he reaches Richie’s bound hands, rubbing his fingers over the raw skin under the cuffs for a moment before Richie feels Seth wedge his shoulders between his thighs, spreading him wider, his fingers edging his cheeks apart.

Richie moans, tilting his hips up, presenting himself to Seth when Seth strokes down the center of him, trailing around his still slick entrance, but not delving in. “Fuck, you already prepped yourself—how long have you been planning this, brother? How long have you been waiting for me to leave the house so you could finger yourself and leave yourself all gift wrapped for me in cuffs?” Seth asks, breath gusting out across him, hot and humid, making Richie’s hips twitch, rubbing his cock between the tabletop and his stomach.

“You’re so loose and red—” Seth slides a finger into him, then another, both going easy as he thrusts inside, quick and sudden, fingers curling inside Richie, making him yelp at the intrusion, Richie rolling back into the sensation, panting and whimpering. “—how long did you finger-fuck yourself, Richard? Did you make yourself come already? Or did you hold back? I bet you’re fucking ready to burst—god, listen to you, you sound like a goddamn wild animal in heat, you want it so badly.”

Seth presses his face against him, nosing at him that makes Richie feel exposed and filthy. Seth inhales his scent there, his tongue a shock against his skin, flicking and lapping at him, circling around where Seth’s fingers are buried inside him.

“Oh god,” Richie whines, words slipping out. A full body shudder runs through him, and he can’t help the whimpers that roll off his tongue, murmuring _god_ and Seth’s name into the table like they were one in the same. His body moves of its own accord, pushing back against Seth’s mouth and fingers.

“You like this, Richie?” Seth says, his voice obscenely muffled against his the delicate skin of his hole, his tongue caressing the skin that clenched over Seth’s fingers. “When I eat your ass out?”

Richie whines, and he nods his head, awkward against the table, even as his face burns hot with a strange kind of embarrassment he doesn’t know how to put into words. He thought he’d gotten over his shame over this, letting Seth touch him, letting himself touch Seth—but it feels almost like the first time again like this, with his hands cuffed and at Seth’s mercy.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby,” Seth mummers, licking around his hole as he slides another finger in and Richie’s whines turn high pitched, keening. “Say it for me, okay?”

“I like it,” he breaths out in a ragged gasp, “I like it, I like it so much, _Jesus.”_ Richie’s hot all over, skin burning up like he has a fever—he didn’t even think about his words, easier to say than he thought it’d be, easy with Seth’s hands on him and his tongue in him and his voice rolling all over him.

“Fuck, you’re so warm around my fingers,” Seth whispers, voice awed and thick, “so slick and loose, you’d be so easy for me to slide right in, right baby?”

Seth doesn’t waste time, thrusting his tongue inside Richie as his hands fall away, Richie not hearing his zipper go down or Seth pushing his jeans down his hips—too caught up in the slick slide of Seth’s tongue wriggling inside him where it shouldn’t be, fucking him like that as his blood rushes in his ears, skin growing tight, muscles taut, cock slickening between his skin and the table. He doesn’t feel it until Seth lines up, hands on his hips, blunt tip of his cock shoving inside in one quick thrust, sending Seth deep in and taking Richie’s breath away—he spasms on top of Richie as he flattens him to the table, Richie’s shoulders straining, burning from the pressure and angle at which his arms are bound.

“I fucking knew it, right goddamn in like you’re made for it, warm sweet hole to fuck,” Seth groans in his ear, mouth open and wet on the side of his neck, twisting and rocking his hips, grinding into Richie but not quite fucking him yet, just letting Richie feel him, the girth and the length, the sense of fullness he craves, the way he feels completed like this, Seth inside him like he was born to be there. “You love being filled up like this, so fucking full with my cock, don’t you, brother? So greedy for it, your body clenching and clamping around me like you want me deeper. You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Richie makes a strange, low moan with his throat, mewling into the table, and he hears Seth chuckling into the back of his neck, spit running down his shoulder, Seth already getting him messy everywhere.

“This good for you, baby, right?” He asks, and he doesn’t pull out, just pushes forward, humping him rather than fucking him; Richie doesn’t think, his body just moves, pushing back against Seth—instinctive, primal, searching for more. Seth moans into his shoulder, biting down softly for a minute as he pumps in once more. “Tell me, baby, let me hear you.” There’s something ragged in his voice, Seth shaking above him, nuzzling and mouthing against his skin. He bites down, harder than Richie expected, and Richie cries out, gasping for breath.

“Fuck,” Seth groans, lapping at the small wound he made, lapping at Richie’s broken open skin. “Even your blood tastes sweet—our blood, ever think about that, brother? You’re fucking your blood, we’re made of the same stuff, baby.”

Seth rolls his hips back then, thrusting in so that Richie feels it, feels what he’s saying, reminding Richie that it’s his brother’s cock filling him up—a flush burning him from the inside out with how much he wants it, how much he likes it. He tries to spread his legs wider, lifting his hips from the table, heart making his ribs ache, his palms stretched out in his bonds, press against Seth’s stomach as he humps against him. “You like spreading it for your brother, don’t you? You like it when I fuck you. Jesus, it gets you so fucking hot, doesn’t it?”

“Please,” Richie moans, feeling his eyes sting, a sob shuddering up his throat. “ _Please_.”

Seth’s mouth is on his jaw then, kissing and licking, tongue swiping away the wetness coming from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. “Please _what_ , sweetheart?” he asks.

“Please fuck me,” Richie whimpers it out, sharp and soft, throat closing up around the words. “I wanna be fucked hard, brother. I want to feel it for days.”

Seth chuckles in his ear, but it sounds rough, gravelly, like he’s just keeping it together, sliding his hands back down to Richie’s hips and gripping hard. “I love hearing how badly you want me to fuck you. I’m gonna make sure you feel it whenever you walk tomorrow, remind you how deep you let your brother get inside you, remind you how much you love taking it up the ass.”

Seth pulls out all the way, hips reared back, just the tip of his cock teasing at Richie, leaving him hollowed out and empty, releasing a sob when he clenches around nothing, insides sore from the stretch. He chokes on it when Seth thrusts back in, hard and fast, the sudden slap of skin on skin ringing in Richie’s ears, the intrusion making his whole body throb, radiating from the center of him. Not enough slickness, too much friction, but Richie wants it like this, just this side of painful as Seth pulls back again, setting up a harsh punishing rhythm that he lifts his ass and pushes into, resting his forehead against the cool wet wood of the table as Seth’s thrusts make the legs scrape against the cheap linoleum.

He bets the neighbors can hear them, all the noise they’re making, all the noise coming from him, but Richie has slipped past caring, submerged deep under the need to feel this, to take this, sore all over, edging towards completion, caught on the precipice, living for the heavy feeling of Seth holding him down, Seth invading him, Seth wringing this out of him with his hands and mouth and his cock, his body holding him down as he fucks him closer to coming.

“So pretty,” Seth murmurs and moans out filth, with each thrust, loud with him. “You’re so pretty like this, all red and sore for me, you’re so fucking _loud—_ I didn’t think you could be so loud _._ ”

Richie lets out a shuddering groan, as warmth crests inside him, exploding outwards. His orgasm hits him hard then, rolling shockwaves of pleasure and heat that start in his groin, up his gut and spine. He sobs into the table, unintelligible, mouth tasting wood until Seth turns his head to the side, a _let me hear you, baby, I wanna hear you_ leaving his lips. He can hear his own voice ringing throughout their tiny apartment, his own come warm against his stomach, smearing on the table.

“ _Fuck fuck fuck_ , I didn’t even touch your cock, fuck, Richie,” Seth whines above him, mouthing at his back, his shoulders, whatever inch of skin he can touch, saying whatever nonsense that comes to mind. He keeps fucking him, hard, sharp thrusts that hit Richie’s overly sensitive spots, drawing out gasps and cries every time. It hurts, the way his arms straining behind him hurts—a pain that he asked for, that he craves, and he doesn’t want him to stop. “Fuck, you’re so good and so pretty like this.” Seth’s coming too, Richie realizes, warm heat spilling out inside him, stinging for a moment, feeling some of it drip down his thighs.

Seth slows, until he stops entirely, lying on top of Richie, as much as he can at this angle, with Richie’s arms pressed against his stomach—Seth still buried deep inside. Richie’s body is sore, and with the pleasure waning, he can feel the pain, the burn and the strain of his arms, the awkward stretched position, but he doesn’t want to move. If Seth wanted to fuck him again, he’d let him.

“I don’t wanna pull out,” Seth says, softer, the desperation out of his voice now. Richie focuses on breathing, letting his body shudder from the feel of Seth’s cock still stretching him, full against his sore insides. He’ll soften soon, but Richie doesn’t want Seth to pull out either, wants to stay tied this way, close as brothers can be. “I wanna stay here forever.”

They stay together for a few moments more, Seth gently kissing across the back of Richie’s neck, the tops of his shoulders, whispering, _baby, you were so good, such a good boy_ , as Seth’s cock goes soft inside him and slides out on its own, Seth’s come a slow drip from his insides—spilling back on his thighs, his scrotum. Seth pushes off of him, slow and reluctant, leaving Richie shivering as the air hits his sweat-dampened skin, Seth’s body no longer a shield, no longer blanketing him.

“Where’d you hide the key, Richard?” Seth asks from behind him, the sound of him kicking off his jeans and underwear from his ankles filling Richie’s ears, his bare feet padding across the floor.

Richie swallows, trying to clear his throat, trying to respond. “I didn’t,” he says, voice raw. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Oh,” Seth says, his weight shifting across the floor of the apartment, moving from the living room to the kitchen, Richie turning his head to watch him swipe the key off the counter and come back to Richie.

Seth is gentle when he removes the cuffs, unlocking each of them slow, rubbing his hands over the red marks left by the steel, the bruising already begun to mottle his skin, lips warm on his wrists as Seth uncurls his arms, Richie pushing against his hold—the pain hitting hard now that there’s no pleasure to distract him, an aching burn throbbing between his shoulders. “ _Easy_ , sweetheart, easy,” Seth coos, holding Richie’s arms as he lowers them to Richie’s sides. “Not so fast, we don’t want you to sprain something.”

Seth keeps him against the table with his palm stretched across his back, holding Richie down, free hand running across Richie’s body, like he was examining him, checking him for injuries and marks. “We gotta get you cleaned up, brother. Patched up. You’re still bleeding.” Seth doesn’t let him up yet, hand sliding down to his lower back as he kneels between Richie’s thighs, peering at the damage he let there, spreading Richie’s cheeks. His tongue is a shock that sets his nerve endings on fire, his body too wrung out of the sensation, too sensitive to get hard again, but Seth laps at him, tasting himself from inside Richie, cleaning him with his tongue.

Seth stops when Richie yelps, kissing the soft skin of Richie’s thighs before pulling himself to his feet, hands falling on Richie’s hips, encouraging him to roll around until Richie feels the table flat against his back. Seth peers down at him with shiny lips, come dripping over his chin, a cautious guilty smile playing at corners of his mouth. “Sorry, sorry, you just taste so good after I fuck you.”

Richie pushes himself up—too fast, blood rushing from his head, making the room spin, pain striking him in random point of his body, but his hands reach for Seth, pulling him close, pushing their mouths together, needing this as the room comes back into focus, Seth his axis point, steadying him as he tastes them both in his mouth.

It only lasts a moment, but Richie has to pull away first, for breath, trying to regain back his composure, breathing into Seth’s mouth. When he pulls away, he stares at Seth for as long as Seth will let him—his pink mouth and dark eyes, lips parted open, the bit of white on his chin. It’s silent, then, listening to the sounds of their breathing, his heartbeat. Seth’s heartbeat, even, sure he can hear it.

“C’mon,” Seth whispers, stroking his face gently before putting an arm around his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, brother.”

Seth walks him to their bathroom. Richie would say he doesn’t need help walking, that a little soreness isn’t a problem—but he can’t see well without his glasses, and he likes this—Seth holding him up, leaning on his brother as they move, too tired and dazed to think about how wrong it is to be so needy for his brother like this.

Seth runs the water hot, but not too hot, testing the temperature as he sets Richie down on the toilet as they watch the water fill up, steam billowing up and caressing Richie’s face. Once filled, Seth guides them both into the tub—a small tub, almost two small for them, in their small apartment, but they fit, Seth behind him, wrapping his arms around him and letting Richie rest on him, back to chest. The water burns and stings at first, rushing over all his sore, aching parts, but then soothes—something about the heat and being this close to Seth’s skin, unraveling the last bit of tension in his body.

He doesn’t pick up the soap or the washcloth, doesn’t make a move to clean themselves up, not yet. Seth sits there with him, his chin resting on Richie’s shoulder, nose occasionally dipping down to nuzzle and press gentle kisses across his neck.

“You know,” Seth says, “you could have just asked. If that’s what you wanted.”

“I did ask.”

“No, I mean,” Seth says, struggling to find the words. Seth’s normally not at a loss for words, but Richie isn’t sure what to call what he wanted, exactly. They don’t have words for it yet. “If you wanted me to fuck you like that, you could have… brought it up to me or something. You didn’t need to—” Seth swallows, close enough Richie can feel the way his throat works, hear his muscles move. “—do it like that.”  

Richie sits there for a while, enjoying the warm water and the feel of Seth’s body pressed against him, the way the rise and fall of Seth’s chest resonated against his body—his movement and breath flowing into Richie, interconnected. He could fall asleep here, until the water turns cold, resting in his brother’s arms, the warmth soothing the sores and aches in his body.

“No,” Richie says, after a while, knowing in the pit of his stomach. He turns and catches the corner of Seth’s mouth with his lips, wrong angle, not quite a kiss, but it’s enough. “It wouldn’t have been the same,” he finishes, resting his forehead against Seth’s temple, counting the beats of their hearts, matching tempo.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to us on tumblr!: [richiesseth](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com/) & [zombiescorp](http://zombiescorp.tumblr.com/)


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